


To Come Unstitched

by wanderingscholarlad



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: 19th Century Sex, Anal Sex, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Competence Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, author did some frantic research about period appropriate lube, its about the hands, joe and nicky are a mutual appreciation society, sewing as a reason to be horny?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingscholarlad/pseuds/wanderingscholarlad
Summary: It’s often how they pass an evening, Joe reading and Nicky mending their shirts. So it isn’t exactly a new scene to Joe, he has plenty of sketches of his beloved like this, but it is still a sight to behold.The firelight is caressing Nicky’s cheek and playing on the rich silk of his waistcoat, still buttoned up even though they’ve been home for hours. Joe can’t decide if he loves the fashions of the nineteenth century or if he hates them. There’s so many layers and buttons between him and Nicky. He does, however, have to admit that the sight of Nicolò in a waistcoat never fails to leave him breathless.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 57
Kudos: 348





	To Come Unstitched

**Author's Note:**

> That gifset of Luca Marinelli in a waistcoat - you all know the one I'm talking about, combined with gay yearning about hands (I watched 2005 Pride and Prejudice and it was formative) and the competence of sewing but make it fic
> 
> Massive thank you to the server for cheerleading me and letting me ramble about this

The way the firelight flickers across Nicky’s cheek is enchanting to Joe, and his fingers itch for his sketchbook, wanting to immortalise the way Nicky looks, sitting curled over his mending. They try not to wear through their things too quickly, and that means there’s always a pile of mending to be done. Nicky and Booker are best at it, Andy too impatient and Joe too invested in making each stitch perfect. Nicky’s stitches are tiny and precise and he has a sniper's patience even when it comes to darning, but he’s never too fussy about them being beautiful in the way Joe is. 

It’s often how they pass an evening, Joe reading and Nicky mending their shirts. So it isn’t exactly a new scene to Joe, he has plenty of sketches of his beloved like this, but it is still a sight to behold.

The firelight is caressing Nicky’s cheek and playing on the rich silk of his waistcoat, still buttoned up even though they’ve been home for hours. Joe can’t decide if he loves the fashions of the nineteenth century or if he hates them. There’s so many layers and buttons between him and Nicky. He does, however, have to admit that the sight of Nicolò in a waistcoat never fails to leave him breathless. 

Nicolò’s focus is entirely on his hands and the needle and Joe drops his gaze to look at Nicky working. His hands are beautiful, long slender fingers calloused from centuries of swordsmanship, but it is not what those hands can do that ensnares Joe. It is not their capacity for violence but the way Nicky uses them to mend their shirts, or cup Joe’s cheek, or reassure a frightened child. Nicolò is a warrior, but he is a gentle one. Steel tempered with sweetness.

Those warriors' hands move with practiced ease over the fine work of darning and Joe thinks about catching them up and pressing kisses to Nicky’s fingers. The need to sketch him thrown aside by the need to kiss him. 

Nicky is perfectly focused on his darning but he can still tell when Joe is watching him, and he glances up through his lashes, hands stilling on the cambric as he looks back at Joe.

They sit like that for a moment, simply considering the other, and Joe has to smile. Nicky isn’t even attempting to look sultry when he glances up like that, but it still makes his heart attempt a foxtrot.  
“Is there something on my face?”

“No, I just like looking at you.”

  
Even after several centuries together, simple comments like that can still make Nicky flush. He flushes and turns his gaze back to his own hands, wants to get this mending done tonight and he knows that if he doesn't look away, he will let himself get distracted by Joe. 

It doesn't particularly help though, he can feel Joe’s gaze on him and he can feel himself responding to being watched like that. He keeps stopping and starting and he knows his stitches are getting sloppy and this isn’t even his own shirt, it’s one of Andy’s so he’d rather not have her question him on why he suddenly can’t sew anymore. He sighs when he sees Joe moving out of the corner of his eye, reconciling himself with the fact that he’s probably not going to get anymore mending done tonight, “I am trying to finish this, habibi.”

“I cannot help how beautiful you look by the fire, and these hands, these hands make my mind spin,” Joe murmurs, dropping to a kneel by the armchair Nicky is in and taking the needle from him, tucking it carefully into the shirt to keep it secure. He takes Nicky’s hand and kisses his fingertips softly, looking up into his face and smiling in the face of the fond exasperation he finds there.

Nicky pushes the pile of mending to the side and lets Joe clasp both his hands to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses against his knuckles until Nicky is smiling and starting to reach for him.

“How will I ever get anything done?” Nicky murmurs, tugging Joe into his lap.

“You won’t,” Joe says with an easy smile and tilts Nicky’s face up for a proper kiss.

Nicky puts his extraordinarily talented hands to good use, undoing the multitude of buttons on Joe’s waistcoat. He curses nineteenth century fashion and comments about how much he misses tunics and how easy it used to be to get naked.

“You don't mean that, my love. You love the sight of me in a waistcoat as much as I like the sight of you in one.”

Nicky grumbles but acquiesces, finally managing to push Joe’s waistcoat off his shoulders.

“I want to ride you,” Joe murmurs into another kiss, “Ride you and watch you use those beautiful hands on my cock.”

Nicky chokes at that, wasn’t expecting Joe to be so brazen about what he wants. His body can’t seem to decide if it wants to send all his blood to his head or to his dick.

“Amore, please-”

“You want that?”

Nicky can only nod, and Joe stands up, linking their hands and tugging Nicky towards the bedroom. Nicky gives the pile of mending one last exasperated look and goes - he really needs to start doing it when Joe is out because he never manages to keep at it for long without being distracted.

Quite possibly the best thing about the safehouse they are currently staying in might be their bed: their bed and the fact that the house is big enough that they don’t have to worry about being too loud and getting displeased comments over breakfast the next day about it. Joe pauses near the bed to work on undoing his shirt and trousers, and Nicky goes rummaging through their blankets, coming up triumphant with the tin of lubricant that they’d thrown somewhere in the heat of the moment the night before.

Joe grins at how ridiculously pleased with himself Nicky looks, especially for someone who was grumbling about finishing his mending instead of having sex moments ago, and reels him in for a kiss, “You’re still fully dressed, habibi.”

“I was distracted; you are distracting.”

They have to keep pausing in their attempts to get Nicky undressed, distracted by kissing and touching each other. Sometimes, they get like this, and it feels heady and new, fuelled by the dizzy rush of a first time even when they already know each other so intimately. Nicky presses his hand against Joe’s sternum, just to feel the thrum of his heart beating, and then steps away, frantically stepping out of his small clothes and scrambling on to the bed, all wayward limbs.

Nicky sprawls out, legs slightly spread, body propped up by the truly ridiculous amount of pillows they’ve collected over the years and beckons Joe over. He looks like sin incarnate, temptation personified, but for the foolishly soft smile on his face. He can never seem to look at Joe with anything but open, burning adoration. Joe hangs back for a moment, just a moment, to better appreciate the sight of Nicky sprawled out and wanting. Any other day, he would make Nicky wait, would go and get his sketchbook so he could commit this image to paper. It has the added benefit of driving Nicky wild with waiting, Joe drawing it out until Nicky is desperate to be touched. Tonight though, Joe wants as badly as Nicky does and he can’t bear to make either of them wait.

Nicky is just starting to pout, when Joe stops admiring him and instead follows him up onto the bed, settling in Nicky’s lap and kissing along his jaw.  
“I was thinking about your clever hands for an age before I caved, thinking about you opening me up, about you touching me. Want to show me how good you can make me feel?”

Nicky can barely articulate a response to that, which makes Joe smile delightedly, usually it takes a lot more than that to get Nicky speechless with desire. 

“Fuck Yusuf, anything, anything you want.”  
“Anything?”

“Anything,” Nicky nods quickly, hands going to Joe’s waist and gripping tightly, grounding them both.

“Alright then, anything. Get me ready for you,” Joe murmurs, low and soft, smiling at the way Nicky’s hands tremble with anticipation as he fumbles the tin of clove oil open. Joe cards a hand through Nicky’s curls and pulls him into a kiss, slowing them down and letting some of the pent up energy bleed away. There’s no need for this to be rushed or stressed, they have all the time in the world, it’s just them, enjoying themselves.

Nicky’s hands are steady when he touches Joe again, pressing one against Joe’s hip and dipping the other lower, tracing slick fingers between Joe’s legs. It is always overwhelming, in the best way, when they have sex like this. They don’t often have the time or privacy for penetrative sex. Mostly it’s frantic intercrural or traded handjobs as they stifle their sounds, because they share their living quarters with their family and no matter what, they do try and keep some things private. So when they do get the chance to actually indulge and take their time, it’s always with a heightened intensity. Nicky has to break their kiss and take a moment to pant against Joe’s shoulder, even if he isn't the one being opened up, he’s desperately worked up. His hips shift impatiently against the mattress but he doesn’t push for more. Even with their healing, prep is important. It often turns into something of a main event for them. Now though, they are far too desperate for more to spend more than the perfunctory time on it. 

“Alright, alright, I’m ready,” Joe whines and Nicky huffs out a laugh, breathlessly kissing Joe’s cheek.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, habibi, yes.” Joe takes a deep breath and gives Nicky a thoughtful look that makes Nicky shiver in anticipation.

“What is it?”  
“Do you think you can keep your beautiful hands where I want them until I let you move?”  
Nicky groans but nods eagerly, just wants Joe to be riding him right now. He’s fairly sure he would say yes to just about anything Joe asked of him when they’re like this, and he knows Joe would never abuse that trust.

He lets Joe take his hands and press them into the mattress by his head, curling his fingers into the sheets and holding on, a reminder to keep still and let Joe take what he wants. 

Nicky throws his head back, clawing at the sheets, when Joe finally sinks down onto him, panting and trying desperately to keep his hips still against the mattress, in order to give Joe time to adjust and set the pace. His stomach is trembling with the effort and Joe rests a hand on it, giving him a tender look. Joe asked for it like this and Nicky wants to give it to him, wants to give him everything, even as his body is warring with his mind on this. Everything in his body is begging him to sit up and take over, but he won’t. He’ll do as Joe asked.

He closes his eyes, taking a few steadying breaths and then makes eye contact with Joe again. Joe is smiling, eyes crinkled and soft as he looks down at Nicky, who is sure he must be a sight to behold like this. Nicky’s hands flex against the sheets and Joe rolls his hips experimentally, testing the waters. Nicky groans, fighting to keep still, and Joe’s smile widens. Joe shifts his hands on Nicky’s chest, supporting himself better and grounding them both. Besides, like this, he can thumb at Nicky’s nipples if he chooses to. Joe rolls his hips again, not really riding properly, just grinding down against Nicky and enjoying the feeling of being full.

“You’re going to kill me, Yusuf,” Nicky groans, arching into it finally. Joe smiles and starts moving, as if he was just waiting for Nicky’s resolve to break. Nicky smiles to himself, knowing Joe, he probably was, the bastard.

“Ah but what a happy way to die, my love.”

Joe finds a comfortable rhythm before long, thighs flexing as he rides Nicky. They can stretch this out for a good while when they want to but neither of them is particularly interested in that tonight. It’s almost hedonistic, just the two of them, moving together in search of pleasure, without a care beyond each other. Nicky’s hands are still fisted in the sheets and his eyes are hooded, but fixed on Joe. He’s temptation incarnate for Nicky, always has been. It’s easy though, to keep his hands in place and not touch, just because Joe asked him to. The one thing that can make Nicky break, the only thing really, is how much he wants to kiss Joe while they’re like this. He knows this is pleasurable, beyond pleasurable, for both of them, but it would be just that much better if Joe was close enough to be kissed. 

“Yusuf, Yusuf please,” Nicky whines, eyes flickering between Joe’s mouth and his dick, practically dripping against his stomach. Joe hasn’t touched himself yet, is waiting until he’s desperate and then will let Nicky let go of the sheets and touch. 

“What do you need?” Joe’s words are rough too, he’s equally affected by this. 

“Kiss me? Please?”  
Joe shifts forward, groaning at the way the change in position angles Nicky’s cock in him perfectly and braces his forearms either side of Nicky’s face.

“Kiss you? Here?” He presses a kiss to Nicky’s cheekbone, “or here?” another to the bridge of his nose, “or here?” another to his jaw.

“Yusuf-” Nicky grumbles, eyes scrunched closed but smiling widely all the same.

“Oh you mean, like this, I see,” Joe grins and finally, captures Nicky’s mouth with his. He smiles into the kiss. Joe links their hands, pulling one of Nicky’s down between them to curl around Joe’s dick and set a smooth pace, before bringing his hand back up to cup Nicky’s jaw and press deeper into the kiss.

The kiss quickly turns messy, the two of them panting into each other’s mouth more than anything. Nicky's free hand is tangled in Joe’s wild curls and then he’s laughing a little, pressing his forehead against Joe’s cheek and laughing, and Joe doesn't understand.

“My love? What’s so amusing?”

“I just thought about how I’d do anything for you - I got overwhelmed, because I want to give you the entire earth.”

Joe breathes in sharply, usually he’s the wordsmith, but sometimes, Nicky surprises him with comments like that - comments that make him feel like he might die out of the magnitude of loving Nicky. 

“Nicolò, you already have. This is all I need.”

“I know, that’s why I laughed, because I want to give you everything, and you let me. It’s joyous.”

Joe smiles, blinking at his suddenly misty eyes, and Nicky shifts to cup his face in concern.

“Yusuf?”

“I just love you. It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? The depth of love?”

“It is.”

Nicky rolls them over so he’s lying between Joe’s thighs and can kiss him with abandon. They’re both close, and it shows in how their rhythm goes sloppy. Nicky’s just rutting into him, but he keeps a steady pace on Joe’s dick and at the last minute Joe remembers to watch him. He’d asked for Nicky’s hands at the beginning of the evening and he’d gotten so swept away that he’d forgotten to watch them. They’re just as beautiful on him as they are on Nicky’s sword, or his sewing. Nicky’s hand speeds up, he wants Joe to come first, always a generous lover.

Joe’s back arches when he does, cursing softly and scratching at Nicky’s back. Nicky goes as still as possible once Joe’s come, giving him a moment to ride out the aftershocks before he pulls out, hand on his own dick as he shakes apart. 

They collapse together, trading soft kisses and arguing about who has to get up to get a cloth and some water. They’ll regret it if they don’t wash up soon, and as usual, they end up both getting up, standing in each other's space next to the wash basin and cleaning each other, soft hands following earlier trails. Nicky steals another kiss and murmurs about how they really should put the tin of lubricant in a better place and maybe tomorrow Yusuf could actually let him finish the mending.

“I could, couldn’t I?” Joe says happily, and tugs Nicky back to bed - to sleep this time, just curl up together and sleep - and Nicky knows that the tin is lost to the covers once again and that his mending will never be properly done.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @wandering-scholar-lad, come yell at me


End file.
